


and now I'm done.

by wearethewitches



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Adoption, Alien Planet, Aliens, Childhood Trauma, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Family Shenanigans, Food Issues, Gen, Hybrids, Injury, James T. Kirk Has Issues, M/M, Multi, Parent James T. Kirk, Post-Star Trek Beyond, Slow Burn, Starship Enterprise (Star Trek), Starvation, Tarsus IV, Triumvirate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-10 04:36:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18931393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearethewitches/pseuds/wearethewitches
Summary: Jim takes care of eight kids on a hostile planet; then, the aftermath.





	and now I'm done.

**PART ONE**

The differences between Tarsus IV and Rallia IX are negligible in the face of starvation, but Jim finds himself comparing them anyway.

Tarsus IV had a purple sky, constantly crackling with lightning from the magnetic field and the fields were pale yellows and greens, like any old Earth farm. The colony was an experiment in the beta stages, made up of scientists dedicated to figuring out how to get more than just the Starfleet-grade communications past the magnetic field – the other colonists had their own backgrounds, of course, but a good percentage of those who brought their families along were hand-picked and paid a settlement to move. Farmers, geologists, government workers – everyone else who came could stay, as long as they had useful skills.

Jim had been technically classed as a civilian, but when he arrived, they put his energetic teenage body and his genius mind to good use. He had gone on weekly camping trips mapping out the area and transported delicate samples by hand when he went home early – Tarsus IV might have used child labour for most things, but it was stringent on how many hours a week they could work. At the time, Jim had been content, if a little bored. However, when the famine arrived and the time came for Jim to run, knowing Tarsus like the back of his hand was a blessing.

Rallia IX, in comparison, is far less known to him. The sky is pink and the shattered moon that orbits the planet twice a day glitters like silver when it reflects the local sun’s rays. Intellectually, Jim knows that the _Enterprise_ is hiding in the ruins of said moon and that he should keep an eye on it, but when it shines so brightly, he keeps his gaze firmly on his feet.

The grass is still green, though – the rocks still varying shades of grey. When it rains, the clouds are dark and when the sun is out, it’s all baby pink like candyfloss and fuzzy pinpricks of white from stars that you can see in daylight. Like Tarsus, Rallia is beautiful, in its own way.

“Daddy, Vis can’t keep walking.” A tug comes from the elbow of his jacket. Jim slows to a halt, looking back on his tiny caravan of children. Sr’yani, Vis’ walking partner and the one who tugged at his sleeve, looks up at him with dull yellow eyes from her position behind him.

“There’s only a little bit left to walk,” Jim promises, voice quiet but strong. He reaches for Vis, lifting the Xahean boy up onto his hip. His spine-spikes rise and fall as he breathes, before finally settling back into his waxy skin. Jim rubs at his shoulder before moving onwards.

Unlike the children, Jim’s legs don’t burn with effort from walking. He’s an adult – and he’s also not inclined to hotter temperatures than this. The brisk cold of Rallia IX has already tripped several of the children up, but the mountains are the only place they’re safe.

“We’re two more days away from the original colony base,” Jim tells them when they finally reach their next camp. They’re in a cave, sat in a half-moon by a wall where the first colonists made a fireplace that doesn’t let out light to the outside, in case of predators. Jim consults his PADD, showing them the map where he’s programmed their route in blue. He points at the red line that intersects their path once more, after this alcove. “This is where we sleep tomorrow.”

Elin, a stocky, nine year old girl with a plume of yellow hair running over her head, raises her hand in question. “Is there food here? You said there’d be food, Daddy.”

“You know the rules,” Jim taps the PADD. “You’ve got to know where to scatter to, if the guards find us.”

“Scatter, shelter, sustenance.” Sr’yani mutters the mantra that Jim has been pounding into their heads for the past two weeks, ever since they lost Daniela. “Scatter, shelter, sustenance.”

“Pass the map around,” Jim orders. He passes the PADD to the closest child, leaving it with them as he searches the cave, trying to pinpoint any hidden recesses where emergency supplies might be stashed.

_Come on, come on…_

A grin breaks out on his face after he puts his arm in a crack in the wall, feeling a handle. Pulling slowly, Jim takes out a metal case, the Federation logo plastered on the edge.

“We’re in luck, kids!” He hears them shuffle, a brief cry of the word ‘ _food’_ being let out by Roci as he sits on his haunches, opening the case up. Inside, there’s a fire blanket, six protein bars, an emergency set of hypos – antibiotics, painkillers, anaesthesia, all set for Humans – a water purifier and another PADD.

“Yes,” Jim whispers to himself, having been hoping for something like this. With only one PADD to lose and eight children to provide for, Jim couldn’t afford to create any sort of comms device to contact the _Enterprise_. The map that Uhura downloaded onto his PADD before they arrived is Q-sent, Jim’s sure, because they’d never have gotten this far without it. His hand trails over the second PADD briefly, before he strays to the protein bars.

Six bars. Eight children and an adult. The water purifier will do good work tonight – there’s mountain springs everywhere on Rallia and the older ones can fill up on liquids.

A thought occurs to Jim. _The protein bars can dissolve, we have a fire and abundant water…_ All they need is a basin of some sort and he can make soup to serve into their water canisters. It won’t taste good, but it’ll be something hot that can be stretched out till tomorrow morning. Elin has her spice-box, too – Talaxians aren’t so sensitive to taste and it takes a lot to make things palatable to them.

Footsteps pad along the ground behind him, echoing slightly in the cave. Jim looks to see Sr’yani again, who curls into his side without second thought, clearly in need of some mature emotional connection. Jim breathes in deeply, taking her furred hand and thinking clearly. Sr’yani is a hybrid from some kind of telepathic species with high empathic abilities and Caitian, a race with similarities to Earth lions – Jim’s of the understanding that her mother usually provided her emotional stability, before they were separated.

“You’re not scared,” she says.

“No,” Jim says, unable to lie to her. “I’ve done this before under worse circumstances and I’m older and wiser, now. I have more friends than I did last time, as well and I know they’re looking for me.”

“They’re in the moon,” Sr’yani says, getting Jim to smile.

“Yes, they are. That’s good of you to remember. Very clever,” he praises. Sr’yani smiles, cat-like and he feels an echo of joy reverberate up through his arm. Jim squeezes her hand before standing, picking up the case with his spare hand and making his way to the group again with her by his side.

“Food?” Roci questions, voice edging from eagerness to desperation. In the flickering firelight, the ridges and tear-drop protrusion makes strange shadows along his green skin, but it’s the many layers that Jim is worried about it.

“Food,” Jim confirms, before shuffling him closer to the warmth. Roci doesn’t protest – he may be part Orion, but he’s Cardassian, too. He’s not meant to be somewhere this cold for this length of time.

Sr’yani lets go of his hand to settle near Vis, again, while Jim thinks of the oddness of a colony _not_ being occupied by Humans as the majority. That being said, Rallia IX hasn’t much of any other majority.

Out of all his Rallian kids, only Elin and Lingor share a heritage – and Lingor is only quarter-Talaxian, being three-quarter Denobulan. It’s all pretty hodgepodge, due to them being second and third generation colonists. Xenophobia and secularism had died down and only now had some races begun interbreeding, where they could. _And then the xenophobes popped out of the woodwork,_ he thinks bitterly.

Jim prepares their dinner soon after, telling the kids galactic history as he does, using sign language with one hand for Lingor and T’Plaris. Multitasking – he couldn’t do that, last time. Fourteen year-old Jim was too busy panicking to put the mental welfare of his kids above the physical, while thirty-two year old Jim is explicitly aware of how traumatising the current situation is and will do anything to keep his kids safe, both from danger and from their own heads.

He knows a couple of learned behaviours will be hard to kick, later, but for now they’re needed. In the meanwhile, Jim will try to keep to a schooling program of his own making, every morning and night. It’s their only piece of normality and Jim strives to keep it.

“-and that, in summary, is how the war against the Xindi ended.” Jim ends his speech with a flourish, pouring a quarter of the liquidised protein bars into each of the nine canisters in turn. The steam rising off each of them makes his gut churn in satisfaction, watching his kids bring the canisters to their faces and feel the heat rising. “Drink up. There’s enough for seconds.”

The word _seconds_ creates a buzz of energy and Jim can almost imagine this is normal – that he’s taking them on a camping trip into the mountains instead of leading them on a trek for their lives – until he finishes his ration of soup and turns to the cave entrance. It’s too noticeable from the outside and there’s nowhere to hide, if someone steps inside.

_It’s not safe._

“Sr’yani, T’Plaris, Elin,” Jim calls out after seconds have been drunk, attracting the three girls’ attention without trouble. “You’ll be on night-watch, once everyone’s settled down. I’ll set the PADD alarm to wake me up.”

The girls don’t sigh or laugh at his decision, but he does get an odd look from Gray. “Why not two?” the boy asks, the line of cartilage bifurcating his blue face that reveals him as Bolian stretching almost flat with his expression of puzzlement.

“Yeah, we usually only have two guarding at night,” Roci pipes up, licking a drop of soup from his chin.

Jim motions the three girls over, aware of how Gray and Roci are listening. “Sr’yani, T’Plaris, I want you on either side of this opening,” he directs them to the edges, steering Elin behind T’Plaris. “Keep her warm,” he tells Elin, who nods fiercely and bundles the young Vulcan girl into her lap.

T’Plaris has become used to physical contact by this point. Two weeks ago, when they began their trek into the mountain range, Jim and T’Plaris made a dual-executive decision to put her temperature above her mental shields, as Vulcan’s have a lower core temperature that is more similar to Cardassians than Humans. Roci, however, has the luck of Orion blood to keep him stable, despite his body’s protests when he doesn’t wear four layers of clothing. T’Plaris just gets hypothermic.

In the mornings before they head out, Sr’yani usually assists T’Plaris in reconstructing rudimentary shielding, but Jim didn’t put them together as walking buddies for a reason; too much time with each other will hurt T’Plaris’ mind in the long run.

“Is it because T’Plaris can hear lots of things? Does Elin get to fall asleep?” Roci questions from behind.

“Elin sees in the dark better,” Jim replies. “We don’t want to be caught out if Sr’yani doesn’t hear them coming from the other direction.”

“What if the guards figure out where we’ve been sleeping?” Gray asks.

“We’ve done well so far – there’s only one more after this, remember,” Jim reminds him.

Vis lets out an angry hiss. “I want to sleep!”

“Don’t be so bad-tempered,” Isuza rolls her eyes, stretching out her long limbs. “Just because you’re tired doesn’t meant you get to demands everything. Daddy even _carried_ you, earlier!”

“No fighting,” Jim says strictly. He glances at Isuza. “It’s bedtime, anyway. You’re not volunteering to sleep beside him, I bet.”

Isuza straightens her back, horrified. “Don’t make me.” Vis growls at the Betelgeusian, who clacks her mouth at him, letting out a strangled-sounding squawk.

Vis does not take that well, leaping at her with his clawed nails aimed at her eyes.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Jim makes his way back across to them, arm wrapping around Vis’ waist and hauling him back, ignoring how his spine-spikes dig into his stomach. Unlike before, they aren’t soft – they’re hard and sharp, a testament to his anger, unexplained as it is. “Isuza, get the bed-rolls out.”

Isuza clacks again at Vis, but Jim glares, his will to live fraying. This is the third time in as many days that Isuza and Vis have started brawling and he still has no idea why. Vis, at least, has youth as an excuse – Jim worked out from the PADD that he’s the standard equivalent of a five year old. Isuza, however, is twenty-three. Physically, she might be a child, but even by her own culture’s standards, she’s had enough time to start acting at least like a teenager and not a seven year old.

“Tomorrow, you’re going to talk this out – _both_ of you,” Jim turns his glare on Vis, briefly, whose spikes recede abruptly. He sags in Jim’s arms and after a long moment, Jim puts the Xahean boy down next to Lingor, who puts a firm hand around Vis’ upper arm to keep him from lunging at Isuza again. “Bedtime,” he pronounces.

The next day, feeling exhausted, Jim reheats the protein-soup and passes out another quarter-serving each. He has a full half to himself, having not eaten his second portion the night before, then has each of them stash away the other two quarters into their containers. Roci cries and complains, but Jim makes himself clear, forcing the boy to put his container into his backpack.

“What if you need to run?” Jim asks him, “What if you get hungry tomorrow?”

Roci hiccoughs and shudders, Jim wiping his cheeks of tears before embracing him tightly. Almost immediately, he’s dog-piled by each of his children, T’Plaris wriggling her way in between Jim and Roci. Jim can hear Sr’yani purring, feel the sandpaper-like texture of Gray’s teal skin on his neck, see Isuza’s brackish limbs contorting around them all – all his kids surround him, showing each other comfort and compassion in this gruelling existence.

Eventually, though, they have to let go and move on. Jim leads them out of the cave – making sure nothing and no-one is left behind – and further into the mountain range. They quickly move off the path the original colonists created to get to the base, walking a parallel track that Jim worked out from the map imaging and his own common sense. Hopefully, it’s keeping them from being found. Jim doesn’t want to imagine the nightmare that is the Rallian government playing cat and mouse with them.

At noon, Jim lets the kids have an hour-long nap, guarding them as they huddle up in a ditch. He keeps his phaser armed and ready, like he doesn’t when he walking with the kids. They shy away from weapons. Jim would rather have his phaser ready at all times, but even having it on his waist makes the kids freak out after too long looking ahead at him, locked on the phaser strapped to his belt. Jim can only hope that when they finally rendezvous with the _Enterprise,_ they won’t all have simultaneous panic-attacks at the sight of the Security Officers.

Once the noon nap is over, he puts his phaser away into his bag, leading them to a mountain stream and refilling their canteens, putting the water purifier to good use. Jim is happy not to be sacrificing one of their shirts for the duty, as they have been doing previously.

Throughout the afternoon, though, Jim starts getting a bad feeling. It prickles his neck and makes his eyes dart from rock to rock, looking up and around. _Something’s off_ , he thinks for over an hour, before finally giving up and putting his hand up. All at once, the caravan of kids comes to a halt and they duck down like he’s taught them, pressing up against the nearby rock wall.

“Do any of you notice something?” Jim asks, barely breathing. His ears strain to hear much past the distant sound of water, birds cawing in the distance, accompanied by the roar of a native quadrupedal beast he’d liken to a mountain lion and a lizard. Slowly crouching, Jim turns his attention backwards, then up to the peaks of the mountain.

He nearly misses it – nearly.

_Shit._

“Run – _run!_ ” Jim yells, hauling the nearest child – Vis – forwards and practically throwing him past him. Sr’yani stumbles forwards to catch up, before pair by pair, they rush past. Jim waits until the last of them, Gray and Lingor, are in front of him before he takes out his phaser and aims at the security camera twitching inside the rock-face. The phaser hums and he fires, Isuza letting out a terrified squawk before the camera explodes in a shower of sparks.

 _How many have we missed? Why are there cameras? Who’s watching from the other side?_ Jim’s heart pounds and he wonders when the trail might have begun. The kids run in front of him, scattering down the mountain-side, taking no note of the paths they could follow and doing as he’s taught them – going to the nearest cover, the treeline far below.

It’ll take them less time to reach the base from the forest, but Jim is far more aware of the dangers present among the trees and bush. Animals, poisonous plants – the mountains aren’t as hazardous. Jim doesn’t want his children to go through the trees. If the _Enterprise_ managed to get themselves sorted out before they reached the base, they might have been able to beam Jim and the kids up, but _not if they were in the trees._

“Don’t scatter!” he shouts, when he sees Vis and Sr’yani disappear into the treeline. It’s unreasonably dark past the first tree and Jim hopes they have the presence of mind to regroup only a few meters in, past where cameras might see them.

Lingor tenses first, at the sight of the phaser in his hand, but Jim doesn’t put it into his bag. Signing with one hand, Jim greets the huddle of children in front of him.

“It’s dangerous, here. I’m keeping my phaser out, in case of animals. I’ll walk behind you all. Sr’yani will take the PADD with the map on it and lead the way,” he explains, before taking it out and bringing the map up. Sr’yani swallows nervously at the sight, taking it with a shaking hand. Her eyes flicker to the phaser and Jim thinks of the burns he treated on her leg a month ago, when they first escaped the town hall. He looks her in the eyes. “Trust me,” he says.

“I trust you,” she whispers.

“Good girl.”

Their expedition continues. Jim hangs onto his phaser and Sr’yani’s knuckles are clenched around the PADD tight enough that even from far behind, Jim can see it crack.

“Daddy,” Gray glances back at him, when night begins to fall. “We’re not going to the cave, are we?”

“No,” Jim says, uneasy. He’s not the native on this planet – he remembers, faintly, being asked about night creatures the first few times they slept outside. Jim whistles, catching Sr’yani’s attention. “How far until the base?”

Sr’yani brightens the PADD, holding it up for him to see. “Three and a half miles.”

“I’m tired,” Elin interjects. Roci at her side nods in agreement.

 _We could make it tonight,_ Jim thinks, hesitant. He thinks of the cameras – clearly, they’re installed to watch for intruders. Anyone could be at the base, though he thinks it unlikely that it’s the Rallian colonists. They took advantage of the _Enterprise_ ’s hospitality when they bombed her from the inside – they don’t have vessels capable of space-fare, except the ones at this base Jim’s aiming for. The cameras might even be unmanned.

“We don’t know anywhere safe to camp tonight and there’s no running water,” Jim says, hand clenching around the phaser. “Two hours. One hour to sleep, with four on watch who get dinner. The next hour, the opposite way around. I’ll sleep with the first four. After we do that, we’re going to walk the rest of the way to the base.”

“I want to sleep,” whines Vis. Jim sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He wants to hand his phaser onto one of the children who’ll be on watch, but he knows that won’t go down well.

“Who else wants to sleep?” he asks. A show of hands gets six out of eight – Sr’yani and Lingor are the only ones who don’t ask, but Jim has a feeling that Sr’yani’s only saying that because he’s put the responsibility of leading them on her. “Vis, Elin, Roci and Sr’yani sleep first with me,” Jim decides. He tries not to feel awful at the betrayed looks he’s sent by the other half of his group.

T’Plaris, at least, doesn’t take it too hard. Her free hand rises, signing out, _‘We need to find somewhere to lie down.’_

“Logical plan there, T’Plaris,” Jim says, before the group starts trudging forwards to do so. The fact that all his kids understand her – and Lingor, by default – after only a month of continuous signing makes him suitably proud, especially seeing as half of them weren’t fluent in Standard, either. Vis’ lack in understanding anything but Xahean comes to mind and Jim reinforces the mental reminder in his head to make sure Vis keeps up his fluency in his native tongue after this is all over.

Elin eventually spies a fallen tree-trunk and they go over to it, setting up five bedrolls. Jim lies on the outermost edge by their feet, the four kids on watch gathering convenient stones to sit on while they guard them in their sleep.

Jim settles into the hour-long nap, greedily taking every second he can to rest. His stomach twists and he dreams of his bag, overflowing with protein bars – even though when he wakes, he knows there’s only an emergency packet of crackers left in each backpack to tide them over, if they can’t forage anything of use or they have to scatter. It had happened twice before they reached the mountains. They’d started their journey with fourteen whole bags of food, supplementing their supplies as they made their way out of civilisation into the wilderness until finally, there were no more houses to tear through and scavenge from.

During his hour on watch with the newly-awakened quad, Jim dismantles the second PADD. He knows this tech, though it’s less advanced than he expected. It’s at least forty years old – though, Jim doesn’t let that stop him from hijacking it for his own purposes.

“C’mon, Nyota, you have to have something up your sleeve,” Jim mutters to himself, tapping his knee nervously as the PADD starts broadcasting in search of the _Enterprise_ ’s frequencies. Jim put in as many as he could recall in a short space of time.

Roci shuffles up beside him, peering at the PADD. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for my ship, Roci,” Jim says with a short smile, tucking him under his arm. Roci bundles into his warmth and briefly, Jim looks over to T’Plaris. Lingor has his arms around her, Isuza’s arm stretched across them both and Gray, too, as if making sure they’re all there.

A beeping comes from the PADD.

“ _This is an official Starfleet frequency, for use of the U.S.S. Enterprise communications only. Please state your authorisation for the record or terminate your connection immediately._ ”

Jim’s eyes whip back to the PADD, an awed smile forming as a thrill runs under his skin. “ _Enterprise,_ this is Captain Kirk. Transfer me to the Bridge.”

“ _Captain! Of course – transferring you now, sir!_ ”

Behind him, the kids begin stirring, the unfamiliar voice giving them pause. Jim looks around, giving the area a three-sixty sweep before turning his attention on the PADD.

The PADD beeps again, before Uhura’s relieved voice comes through. “ _This is Lieutenant Uhura, you’re on screen, Captain_.”

“I’m so glad to hear your voice, Lieutenant,” Jim grins, knowing the PADD doesn’t have a camera to put up on the bridge window.

Immediately, there are voices. He hears Sulu laughing, Chekov’s _‘Keptin, you are alive!_ ’ and Uhura’s loud sigh of relief.

“ _Captain, we are tracing your position currently,_ ” Spock’s voice comes through the speaks and Jim’s shoulders shake, his eyes closing at the sound of his first officer. “ _The ship remains hidden behind Rallia Nine’s moon, but Lieutenant-Commander Scott and the Engineering Department have managed to repair what they can. What work remains cannot be done without excess parts._ ”

“I didn’t even get the chance to ask how the ship’s doing,” Jim chuckles.

“ _As it has been thirty-six point eight-three standard days since your kidnapping, Captain, taking in mind your usual queries as to the state of the Enterprise in instances such as these, I thought it prudent to ‘get in front of the matter’, as you would call it._ ”

“Thank-you, Commander Spock,” Jim says. “We’re just over three miles from the original colony base, if that helps.”

“ _It does, sir. Unfortunately, the Enterprise’s transporter capabilities are non-functional, unless there is an appropriate receiver pad operational._ ”

“Right,” Jim nods, glancing at the time and then the kids. They’re all awake, now. “You guys, eat your food. We’re going to head to the base.”

“ _Captain, am I to assume you are accompanied by colonists?_ ” Spock asks, a measure of alarm to his voice.

“Kids, Spock. They were all kept in a separate block from the adults, with me, actually – guess the bad guys thought I couldn’t do much with just the children to back me up.”

“ _If I may question, how many children are with you, Captain?_ ”

“Eight,” Jim replies thickly. “There used to be seventeen.”

There’s a moment of silence from the PADD and Jim uses it to stand, helping the kids pack away their things while they drink the rest of their protein-soup. When Spock finally speaks again, his voice is quiet.

“ _Jim. Captain. What are your orders?_ ”

“Hack the base,” Jim replies. “There were cameras in the mountains – we were up there, following a path close to the original road to colonists took to get to the valley. I want to know who is waiting for us in that base and I want it done now. We’ll take less than five hours to get there, hopefully, three if the kids can keep it up after their nap.”

“We can do it!” Roci exclaims.

“Yeah!” agrees Elin, Isuza picking up T’Plaris and putting her on her back, her backpack on her front. Jim frowns at her.

“Isuza, you can’t-”

“Can,” she glares. “ _Will_.”

“If you drop her…”

“She won’t,” Vis says, surprising him. It seems to shock Isuza, too, who then nearly _does_ drop T’Plaris before the girl puts one of her hands down under Isuza’s collar.

“T’Plaris’ been…studying me,” Isuza admits, looking to Jim with a defensive spark to her eyes. Jim takes a moment to absorb her words, before blanching.

“Is this why her shields have been degrading? I thought you said you could keep her out!”

“I can, but I’m not. She’s been making my body act nicer,” Isuza says, lifting her head. “I can carry her the whole way. It’s colder at night. She can’t do it.”

“ _Captain,_ ” Spock interrupts, “ _do you have a Vulcan child in your custody?_ ”

“Her name is T’Plaris,” Jim glares at the girl. “She’s five and yes, I’ve been trying to make sure her shields are up. I’ve got another telepath here, who checks in on her every morning. Otherwise, they stay apart.”

“ _This other telepath is a child._ ”

“Stop judging me,” Jim snaps at him, hearing the judgement in his tone. “I have eight kids to take care of and their welfare is my top priority. Don’t you _dare_ judge my methods to keeping them sane.”

Silence. Then Spock speaks in an apologetic voice, saying, “ _My apologies, Captain. Who are your charges? What are their conditions?_ ”

“Give me a minute. We’re going to start heading forwards – I’ll tell you on the way,” he says, before putting the PADD in his pocket, making sure the comm function doesn’t turn off as he organises the kids. They get back in their pairs – and Jim _does_ glare a little at Isuza and T’Plaris, for their behaviour – and he stays at the back, phaser in one hand and the PADD returning to his other.

“Do Vira Nya Gulo Vo Vis, or just Vis. Xahean, his age translates to five. Male. The youngest, next to T’Plaris, but he doesn’t have a Vulcan upbringing so he’s more like a Human five year old,” Jim describes. “Aka, practically a baby.”

Vis, thankfully, is too far ahead to hear _that_. Gray glances back at Jim, clearly listening in.

“Sr’yani is a hybrid – Caitian and something else. She’s the telepath I mentioned. Female, ten standard years old,” Jim lists, “and she uses me to stabilise her emotional state. Her empathic powers are pretty high, compared to her telepathy.”

“ _Has she been able to manipulate your own emotional state, Captain?_ ”

“She used it pretty well against the guards who were keeping us,” Jim admits, before looking behind him. _No monsters in the woods so far._ He wonders how long it’ll last. “Elin. Talaxian. Nine standard years old and about the only one in the group who isn’t having major trouble with the temperature, but the biggest complainer of the lot.”

Elin startles, “I’m not!”

Jim smiles a little. “Roci’s the most annoying, don’t worry.”

“ _Hey!_ ”

Jim chuckles. “Ngerociger, or ‘Roci’ as we call him. Cardassian-Orion. Six years old and our beloved annoyance.”

“I’m not annoying!” Roci complains, pouting at Jim before yelping as he trips over a tree-root. Elin helpfully stops him from falling, keeping a tight hold of his hand.

“Lingor Mu-Xi-Omicron,” Jim then states. “Denobulan with a little bit of Talaxian ancestry. He’s deaf, so I’ve had to teach them all how to communicate with him. Seven standard years old. He had pneumonia a week ago, but it’s cleared up on its own, thankfully. I’d still like Bones to have a look over him, when we finally meet up.”

“ _I shall inform the doctor myself. If I may, I believe Dr McCoy will be glad to hear you have survived._ ”

“I’ll never hear the end of this,” Jim twitches. “You think he’ll ever let me out of his sight again?”

Sulu snorts over the comm. “ _Unlikely._ ”

“ _I concur with Lieutenant Sulu’s assessment,_ ” Spock agrees, sending a short round of laughter throughout the bridge team. Jim finds himself choked up, having missed this – having missed his crew and his friends.

“You guys are the best, you know that, right?” Jim asks them, sniffling. “I’ve missed you.”

“ _Us too, Captain,_ ” Uhura says.

“ _Yes, we have missed you ‘wery much, Keptin,_ ” Chekov adds.

“All we’re missing are Bones and Scotty,” Jim chuckles, before adding, “and Jaylah.”

“ _Better add Keenser and Chapel to that list,_ ” Sulu notes.

“ _And Gaila,_ ” Uhura says fondly. Jim can’t help the smile at the reminder that their friend survived Nero’s attack – he’d nabbed her from the Academy for the _Enterprise_ the moment she’d finally made it back to Earth, little under two years ago. It was a stroke of luck they’d still been in Yorktown, when they heard. She gets called _Planet-Hopper_ , nowadays.

“And Gaila,” he agrees. “How’s crew morale?”

They chatter on about the ship. A month ago, when Jim and his kids were still on the cusp of getting caught, when they were still learning how to be quiet and how to sneak past guards pair by pair, Jim will admit he wasn’t thinking much about his crew. No, he was too focused on keeping his kids safe, keeping them _alive._

Dominic left first, caught by a guard and dragged off. Jim knew he was a lost cause the moment the cuffs were around his wrists – that he was their loss of cover. He would have been killed because of the red brand on his shoulder. All his kids have them and so does Jim. The marks are signs of the new government, meant to advertise their _dispensable_ status – their _traitor_ status, though Jim knows they didn’t have the gall to call it that at the time.

“They were after the hybrids and the supporters,” Jim tells his Bridge-crew. “They didn’t have many supporters, until they liberated the armoury. Then supporters popped up like hives – I’m pretty damn sure a lot of it was just the pressure to commit to their xenophobic ideals, but that doesn’t make it any less bad.”

“ _We understand, Captain. The colonists are sending a disturbing amount of propaganda across the galaxy, of which the Admiralty have yet to decide how to answer. Rallia Nine’s status as a Federation colony means they must abide by the Federation charter, but they have declared a wish to secede._ ”

“That’s not good.” His stomach flips. “You’ve been told to stand down.”

“ _Indeed, Captain. I have sent three separate requests using multiple points from the Federation charter and Starfleet directory as my basis for intervening on your behalf, but I have been declined. However, as you have now contacted us, I may launch a rescue mission._ ”

“The original colony base should have ships,” Jim replies, “and possible a transporter pad you can receive us from. Mark my kids down as asylum seekers and if you can find their Federation IDs, note down that they’ve been transferred into my custody in light of the situation. The Admiralty can fight me later.”

Spock pauses, “ _And what of ‘later’?_ ”

“They’re staying with me, Spock,” Jim says, words firm. “We’ve got Demora Sulu on board as the prime test subject to see if the _Enterprise_ is capable of hosting families safely. It’s a bit unorthodox, but I’ve already been looking after these kids for a month. I’m attached. Unless they’ve got close relatives willing and able to take them in…” Jim swallows, thinking of the kids from Tarsus. He never saw any of them ever again. These children call him _Daddy._ “I’m not letting them go easy into the night. They’re mine, Spock. Mine.”

“ _I do not recommend this course of action, Captain, but I will do as you ask,_ ” Spock says, before asking, “ _Who are the remaining three children in your party?_ ”

Jim clears his throat, buttoning down on his emotions. “Sr’yani, Vis, Elin, Roci, Lingor, Gray, T’Plaris and Isuza. Gray is actually called Graish Kittar. He’s a six year old Bolian boy. He broke his arm a while back and it’s healed decently, but again, I want Bones to take a look.”

“ _It will be so. T’Plaris?_ ”

“I get that you want to talk about the only other Vulcan in the area, Spock,” Jim says in amusement, noting how Isuza stumbles, T’Plaris obviously only now connecting ‘Commander Spock’ to ‘my first officer’, as Jim has referred to him when he’s mentioned him previously. “But I’ll get to her in a minute.”

“… _I will admit, knowing a Vulcan child is in your grasp instead of living on New Vulcan, is worrying,_ ” Spock says after a long moment.

“I know, Spock. Surprised me, too, but apparently her parents were part of the original colony. They had her relatively late in life, in the wake of Nero’s attack,” he says, before deciding to make his first officer stew a bit longer, feeling possessive of little T’Plaris. “Vaaku Isuza is technically the eldest of my little brood, but I’ve been informed that Betelgeusians age at a different rate to Humans. She’s twenty-three and the girl you heard earlier, who’s been scheming with T’Plaris.”

“ _Betelgeusians have remarkably hardened minds. I find it strange that Isuza would be able to lower her natural shields enough for T’Plaris to effectively meddle with her physical state of being._ ”

“It took weeks!” Isuza says loud enough to be heard.

“What she said,” Jim says, before getting to Spock’s obsession. “And finally – drumroll please, Sulu.”

He hears Sulu’s immediate drumroll on his console, smiling at the man’s enthusiasm, most likely done with a deliberately straight face because Sulu is a bitch like that.

“And finally,” he repeats, “we have our local Vulcan: T’Plaris. Aged five, she enjoys hugs, meditation with Sr’yani and going behind my back to make multiple mind-links, which she thinks I don’t know about, but I do.”

Once more, Isuza stumbles from T’Plaris’ lack of control.

“ _A dangerous decision to allow to go unremarked upon. How many bonds has she created amongst your group?_ ”

“I’m assuming everyone, but I only know what Sr’yani’s been able to tell me when she’s asleep. I know she made one with me a month ago, because we talked about it. If I concentrate, I can tell how she’s doing physically. Useful, that.”

“ _A parental bond. A child of her maturity would only be able to create one if her bond-centre was in severe distress and her control lapsed,_ ” Spock says, voice blank and almost cold. Jim briefly shuts his eyes, knowing what he’s realised. “ _Am I to assume T’Plaris has not told you of any such distress?_ ”

“You would assume rightly, Mr Spock.”

“ _Then I would conclude that T’Plaris has created bonds with you and her compatriots to dull the pain from which her parental bonds have been broken._ ”

“She doesn’t speak,” Jim blurts out, realising abruptly afterwards that he has been missing this: adult conversation. He needs time away from the kids, out of the fatherly/pseudo-leader role he’s taken upon himself to have. Wincing at his own bluntness, Jim waits for Spock’s reply.

“ _Muteness can be a reaction to trauma. It is only logical she be affected in such a way._ ” Spock pauses, before saying, “ _You have been speaking honestly of your experiences while in the presence of the children. As their caregiver, do you believe this to be appropriate to speak of where they can hear?_ ”

“They deserve to know what’s happening to them.”

“ _Even if your request for them to remain upon the Enterprise with you fails? It is illogical to believe you will be granted custody of eight children, none of whom are related to you and all have different needs related to their cultures and physiologies._ ”

“I’ve done it alone for thirty-six days,” Jim says lowly, “and I can do it longer. But I would hope to have my friends behind me, when I did.”

There is a long pause, before – unsurprisingly – it is Sulu to speak. “ _Of course, Jim. You help with Demora all the time._ ”

“ _Yes,_ ” Chekov says, “ _It would be an honour, sir._ ”

“ _I agree. We’re your friends,_ ” Uhura says clearly, “ _Anything you need, Jim._ ”

He listens to them with a smile. Jim can’t _stop_ smiling. “Spock?” he asks, feeling the wind pick up, blowing across his face.

There is a short amount of silence, before he replies. “ _It would be unkind for me to decline and furthermore, against my own will. If you require assistance in caring for your children, it is my honour and privilege as both your friend and first officer to support you. I also firmly believe that Dr McCoy and Lieutenant-Commander Scott would say much the same._ ”

“I love you guys,” Jim says, feeling a certain wetness to his eyes. _We’re going home_ , he thinks, all the stress of the last month falling from his shoulders _._ But through the trees ahead, he can see the faint sight of a wall – grey and sparking with electricity. His survival mindset returns and Jim whistles, getting the group to halt, lowering his voice as he speaks into the PADD. “Coming up to the base now. Have you got into their system, yet?”

“ _Yes, Keptin,_ ” Chekov says. “ _Lieutenant Uhura and I both have the schematics and system logs here, sir. It seems they do have their own transporter, but no space ‘wessels. We have yet to access the security systems, but we are getting there._ ”

“ _Captain,_ ” Uhura starts, “ _They have a live electric fence surrounding the perimeter, several metres in front of solid walls. From your position, you need to head east to get to the gate._ ”

“Thanks, but that doesn’t tell me if we’re expected. Life-signs?”

“ _Three life-signs within the base, sir,_ ” Chekov states.

“Great. Great. No more communications for now, unless it’s urgent. We’ll head to the gate and check in once we reach it.”

“ _Understood, Captain. We shall endeavour to access the security system while we wait._ ”

“Good. Kirk, out.” Jim lowers the PADD sound control to almost nothing, before heading to the front of the group, phaser still out. “Stay behind me. If we need to scatter, stay inside the base and watch out for cameras.”

“Yes, Daddy,” they chorus, Lingor and T’Plaris signing their understanding. Jim hadn’t even realised he’d signed – it’s become too ingrained.

They head east, like Nyota said. Jim trusts her to guide them. When they get closer to the fence, they can hear the buzz of electricity – probably meant to keep the wildlife away. Jim can see the white-blue flickers that make Gray look away like he’s going to be ill.

Jim takes his PADD out when the entrance is in sight. “We’re at the gate. Progress?”

“ _Keptin,_ ” Chekov whispers, “ _we have accessed the security system. The three life-signs belong to guards. All are in quarters, sleeping. They are in the North end of the base, sir, but there are two transporters. One is located in an out-building to the west and the other to the east. I will open the gates now, sir and lead you to the transporter. Scotty and Dr McCoy are both waiting for you, sir._ ”

“That’s great news, Chekov,” Jim straightens, finally depowering his phaser, tucking it in his belt. He breathes deeply, the wind changing direction to blow towards the base. “Alright, kids, Uncle Chekov’s going to open the gate, then we’re going to follow his direction to the-”

A growl comes from behind them. Jim freezes, Elin letting out a startled growl of her own that has the beast at their backs snarling.

“Chekov, the gate?” Jim asks, holding his breath. _Fuck, the wind, our scents…stupid, **stupid** Kirk…_ He’d never had to think of the wind on Tarsus IV, not when all the animals had died. There were no birds, no prey – no _predators_.

“ _It is open, now. What was that sound, sir?_ ”

“Oh, nothing, just a native animal I think wants to eat us,” Jim says lightly, slowly reaching for his phaser again and turning around. In the dark of the forest and the night, it’s hard for Jim to see – but it’s as large as a bear and its eyes reflect the moonlight. It growls again. “Alright, kids, slow movements towards the gate. Uncle Chekov has unlocked it and assumingly de-electrified it. Get it open, get it, then wait for me.”

“Daddy,” Roci says, voice wobbling, “that’s a qaavel!”

“What’s a qaavel, Roci?” Jim says, voice still light and easy. He takes out his phaser, aiming it at the ground near the qaavel’s clawed feet. “Tell me while you go to the gate.”

He hears the kids shuffling, sees the qaavel tracking their movements until he arms the phaser, the hum catching its attention.

“Qaavels are shadow-hunters. They’re nocturnal and they eat everything with a pulse,” Sr’yani tells him, voice distant and just as shaken as Roci’s. He hears the fence rattling as they open it, the qaavel growling. Jim backs up one pace, phaser still aimed at the qaavel as it slowly steps out of the treeline.

 _Those are some big teeth_ , Jim swallows. The qaavel is grey, not unlike a rock and Jim imagines that it rather looks like one, when it’s curled up. Bony and tall, the qaavel is not dissimilar to a wolf, but instead of fur, it has scales and rows upon rows of teeth behind the main, jagged knives sticking down from its open snout. It sniffs deeply and Jim gets a bad feeling.

“Are you behind the fence?” he asks the kids., preparing to run.

“All of us – come on, Daddy!” Sr’yani exclaims and Jim twists, rushing to the open gate. Behind him, the qaavel follows with a snarl and just as he reaches the gate, it meets his back, teeth digging right through his backpack into his back. Jim’s legs abruptly go limp and he grabs onto the wire gate with his free hand as he screams, pain shooting up his back.

The children scream, yelling, reaching for his coat and trying to pull him back. Jim drops the phaser at some point, hearing the qaavel roar and let go of him – only for that same phaser he dropped to charge and let fly a bolt. Elin, Gray, Lingor and T’Plaris drag him in past the gate and Jim’s vision is spotting, the pain so terrible.

“He’s bleeding-”

“-what do we do?”

“-you shot it!”

“What do we _do?_ ”

Jim feels liquid in his lungs and he coughs, the movement jarring his back as he tastes hot copper blood in the back of his mouth, his sight whiting from the pain. He hears the gate shut and can sense how strong the electricity is running through it, as it comes back online. Chekov’s frantic voice, interspaced with Uhura’s, is asking what is going on. The PADD is taken out of his pocket and he sees Roci, his green eyes wide and teary as he looks down at Jim.

“Uncle Chekov, Daddy’s hurt.”

“ _O-okay. You must get him to the transporter. You need to go inside the big wall and go either left or right, it does not matter. Stay close to the wall, if you can._ ”

“My name’s Roci,” he says and Jim sees Elin, Gray and Lingor again, grabbing his arms and the collar of his jacket. “He’s bleeding, Uncle Chekov.”

“ _Roci – Roci, calm down. He will be fine. You just need to get him to the transporter._ ”

They move and Jim can’t think for the pain. Things go black, phasing in and out. He feels the full weight of his body being dragged, sees bright white lights flash behind his eyelids and all the while, his children are _crying_ and _whimpering_.

_My kids, **my kids** -_

**Author's Note:**

> [ come say hi on tumblr ](https://wearethewitches.tumblr.com/ask)


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